Phantom Dream
by Sacree Noir
Summary: What happens when Q makes a bet concerning the Phantom of the Opera.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I don't own any right's to Star Trek or Angel of the Opera, though the Phantom himself is now public domain.

I was sitting in my usual chair in the library at school. It was a nice hot summer day outside and I preferred the cool interior of the library. I had sixth period off and I often used it to do homework, read or sometimes take a nap. Today I chose to do a little of each. Having just finished some English homework I dug a book out of my backpack. I was reading Susan Kay's _Phantom_ for the umpteenth time. I have to admit to being an avid Phantom of the Opera fan. I read anything about it that I can get my hands on, and ever since I discovered the Internet I spent hours online perusing Phantom based web pages.

I should probably describe our library. It's a circular building on the outside. Inside about half of the room is circular and shares a wall with the outside. The rest of the building is partitioned off in to smaller back rooms and storage. In the center of the literary there is a sky light with a circular shaped sunken concrete floor, where they have placed armchairs, tables and lamps for students to use for study or reading. And yes someone did turn it into a duck pond as a Senior Prank. Fortunately who ever did thought things through first and taped off the electrical outlets before filling it with water. Normally the library is relatively deserted during class time, but this close to the end of the year man classes were returning their books, others come in to work on final projects, so it wasn't always as quiet as today.

Well I settled down to red on of my most favorite stories, but it must have been warmer in the library than I thought because I caught myself nodding off several times, something I almost never do while reading. I put the book down to take a nap, but as is usually the case, I wasn't tired anymore, so I picked up the book again. For some reason I always like to sit sideways in my chair, especially armchairs. I had my legs over one arm and my head resting against the back of the chair now in my favorite position. This particular position makes it easier to sleep if I'm so inclined. I must have dozed off finally because that is the only way I can describe what happened next.


	2. Chapter 2

I opened my eyes to find I was still sitting in a chair as I had been in the library, but I was most definitely not in the school library. In fact there is no way anyone could call the room I was now in a library. There were not books, even the book I had been reading had vanished. My clothes had changed too, I was wearing a dress and a whole lot on undergarments I was not familiar with. I felt like and actress from a period piece. I couldn't make out the details of the room because along with my book my contacts had disappeared. Unfortunately even with all the strange things I carry around with me, a spare pair of glasses are not one of them. I could make out a lamp (because it was on), a bed in dark reds and browns, the chair I was sitting in a dresser(under the lamp) and a door to another room, which when I examined it I discovered was a bathroom. I also found my backpack when I tripped over it.

"Well this is an interesting turn of affairs," I said out loud. I almost always talk to my self when I'm alone.

"How quaint," said a voice behind me.

I jumped. There wasn't supposed to be anyone in the room with me. I turned around and found someone sitting on the bed. I stepped closer to him to get a better look, probably not the wisest thing I've ever done. He had sounded remarkably like John de Lancie. Before I could get close enough to make out much of his face there was a flash of light and then he was gone. "What the -!"

"Over here," he sighed.

I turned to find him lounging in the chair I had been sitting in earlier.

"What do you want'? And what the heck is going on here?"

"Two very good questions." Said the man," but you forgot one"

"What?"

"Who are you?"

"At this point I really don't care," I told him.

"You should," he said standing up.

"Why? This is all just a dream and I'll probably be waking up to the bell any minute now."

"Is it just a dream?"

I was beginning to wonder just that. Normally when I dreamed I didn't need glasses or contacts to see, but for some reasons I did this time. Also I didn't have that "in control" feeling you get when you realize you are dreaming.

"Let me tell you something, this is no dream. No, you're here on a bet."

"Do you get some perverse pleasure out of telling me this, Q?" I made a guess at his identity. Obviously I had been reading one too many Star Trek TNG stories lately.

"Do you dream in French?"

"No, my chosen language is German at the moment. Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I like you humans. Hard as it may be for you to accept that. I do."

"And here I was hoping you were going to tell me so I could wake up."

"Tut, tut, such lack of faith. Would I do anything to harm someone I like?"

"Yes."

"You cut me to the quick. If you feel that way about it I supposed I'll just have to leave you to figure out the rest by yourself. Only don't think about it too hard, and don't tell anyone else," he gave me, what I suppose, was a threatening look then disappeared in another flash of light. Not being able to see does have its advantages.

With a sigh I wandered around the room. This time I discovered a piece of paper on the dresser. On examining it more closely I found it to be a note written in, of all things, French. I couldn't puzzle out what it said as I sometimes can, I put it back and went to look through my back pack figuring I might as well get some home work done. All of my text books were there just as I had left them after making a stop at my locker. I was concentrating on the math assignment when it suddenly hit me. I could understand the note. Almost at the exact same moment that this occurred to me there was a knock at the wall. Then another man walked through a door I hadn't noticed. He put several packages down on the bed I wondered what was in them.

"Would you care to join me for lunch?" he asked after finishing his task.

I had still been wondering about the packages when he asked this and discovered that I would understand what he said even thought he spoke in French. I wondered if this was what Q had bent by not thinking about it too hard. I decided to experiment. Throughout lunch I tired thinking about what he said and only half thinking about it. When I tried to understand what he said I couldn't, when I only half listened I would. And If I let my mind wander strange things happened. I discovered this a little later.

I was beginning to figure out where I was, and I was wondering if maybe I should lay off the Phantom for a bit. Everything was right out of Gaston Leroux's novel, the meal, the house, even the music practice. And I was in the part of Christine. This was every Phan's dream come true, if it were true and I was beginning to believe it was. It was during the latter end of the tour and while singing that I discovered that if I let my mind wander some outside force took control of my actions. I also found out that I had to struggle to regain control of my actions. Mush to my disgrace I didn't discovered this until after I held his mask in my hot little hands.

"Damn, you," he screamed.

I just stood there staring stupidly at him for a moment. For some odd reason I started thinking of National Geographic, and X-Files, while I prudently backed up. After a few steps I tripped over some thing, a bit of a step. I was able to regain my balance quickly and took another step back. This time my heel hit something and when I tried to step over it I tripped. I had backed into the side of his coffin and was now sprawled across its length. I started scooting backwards and rediscovered another of the many reasons I hate wearing a skirt or dress. I couldn't move quickly enough and I couldn't get my legs under me because they kept getting caught up in my skirts.

Erik lost no time in grabbing my hands out from under me and pulled me up.

"Perhaps you thing this, too, is a mask. Why don't you try to take it off, like you did the other?" he demanded.

"I can't. Only you can take this one off, but you're welcome to make me try," I said. He dug my fingernails into his I face, or tried to. I used to play violin, and occasionally I'll still pick one up. Because of this I keep my fingernails very short and I'd be lucky if I could make an impression in soft clay. Even with the strength of his hands behind them the result was only red streaks down the sides of his face.

"I warned you it wouldn't work. Violinist have no finger nails to speak of." I said.

"You don't play the violin," he stated.

"Well not in months I'll admit, but I used to. I think you're thinking of Christine."

He let go of my wrists then, stunned, "What?" I lost my balance, again, and ended up collapsed on the satin lining of his coffin once more.

"Well, that was interesting," I said with a sigh, I pulled myself up with a hand on the side. I decided it might be prudent not to stand, all things considered. "Why don't you sit, this explanation might take a while. Even if it doesn't you're gonna want to sit before I finish."

He sat on a nearby couch, I scooted until I was opposite him, crossed my legs Indian style, rested by head on my hands and my elbows on the edge of the coffin.

"What you say implies that you are not Christine," he said.

"I'm not, I'm not even . . . no I can't truthfully say that. I'm an American and even though I was told I shouldn't explain this I'm going to anyway. I'm from the future." I stopped to let him recover from that shock.

"Can you prove this?"

"If you give me long enough, I can probably come up with something. Off the top of my head, no."

"Then why should I believe you?"

"Oh, my ID! That's right plastic hasn't been discovered yet. I'll show it to you later," I held up a hand to forestall any comments, "I'm here on a bet, not one I made, not even one I had any choice in, if that makes you feel any better. Some semi-omnipotent beings made some sort of bet about my courage or something like that, perhaps it's just about how time affects people views, I didn't ask. I was a little miffed."

"You spoke to these people?" he sounded stunned.

"One of them, he's the one who told me not to tell you, but I never promised. So the result is I'm here and Miss Daae is in my place. I can only guess that she has been supplied with everything she needs to know to live there just as I have been. That's what happened earlier. For some reason when I don't think about what I'm doing I seem to lose control of some of my actions."

"May I then suggest that you think about what you're doing at all times," he said, sarcastically.

"No kidding. And here I thought that was a good idea. I just hope I don't sleep walk."

"So do I."

"Back to the point at hand, I seem to have a small problem."

"That would be?"

"Well I wear glasses. Without them I can't see worth mentioning. I doubt that the powers that be saw fit to put them in my back pack."

"You must be able to see some, or you would have run into any number of obstacles today."

"Sure, colors and fuzzy blobs. Enough to keep from adding to my collection of bruises."

"How close does something have to be for you to see it clearly?"

"That depends of what it is. People and most objects I can see up to 30 centimeters away. Text I can only see to read about 8 inches. I don't know how many . . . hold on I'll be right back." I ran back into the other bedroom, found by calculator in my backpack and brought it back. I sat down again this time on the platform the coffin was on.

"OK 2.5 cm to an inch that makes 20 centimeters about the maximum distance I can read a book at," I said after a moment.

"What is that?" he gestured to the calculator.

"It's a scientific calculator. It does math."

"May I?"

I handed it to him. He looked at in and pushed several buttons, slipped out of the cover and finally exclaimed over a plastic club card that advertised the Star Trek 25th Anniversary that I occasionally used as a straight edge.

"What is this?"

"Oh, that's an ID card for a club. Kind of like a credit card. Anyway the company sent it to my Dad and he didn't want it so he gave it to me. I like the picture on the front.'

"What is it made of?" he asked tapping it with a finger.

"Plastic."

"I have never seen this before. It says Patrick Smolenski, that would be your father's name? Polish?"

"Yes, to both questions. I forget did I introduce myself?"

"No, I don't suppose it's too much to hope your name is Christine?"

"Not even close, it's Jennifer, but most people call me Jennie."

"Jennifer, after the saint?"

"After my Aunt."

He nodded. "This would appear to back up your story," he said finally handing back my calculator and card.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Erik understood I wasn't Christine, and had absolutely nothing against him, he treated me like a father or an older brother. It was really nice because I only have younger brothers and most of the time they are real snots. Having a nice older brother type figure was an interesting change. He did insist that I sing regularly, but other than that I was pretty much left to myself. He was a great help with my re-calculus and liked the physics I was studding. Erik was also a great help with my German. I could only guess at what my classes back home were doing. I wanted to stay as caught up as possible on school work. I didn't trust Q to catch me up when the bet ended.

Erik insisted that I attend the Masquerade ball he even provided me with a costume for it. I didn't know anyone but several people stopped and talked to me. Since my Dad is a teacher and a lot of the administrators know who I am and I have no idea who they are, I have lots of practice with this. I was starting to grow accustomed to speaking French on a regular basis. Erik had been nice enough to speak English at least part of the time while I was with him.

Around midnight I was accosted by a young man wearing a black Domino. He pulled me into an unoccupied box. Almost immediately he began to entreat me to come back to him. I must have started thinking about other things because the next thing I knew I was in a different box with Quasimodo and the Grim Reaper as well as the man in the domino. I had no idea what I had said, but I could have probably guessed.

"What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into now," I muttered to myself. Quasimodo seemed to have heard, but I couldn't be sure, especially when I didn't have my glasses. The man in the domino saw Erik's cape pass the door when he opened it for some reason. I managed to get between him and the door before he could get out. Playing on a hunch and my reading I pleaded with Quasimodo to stay in the box and give me what amounted to a five minute head start. He promised he would. I managed to get the same promise form the Grim Reaper and reluctantly the young man. I left quickly and headed towards Christine's dressing. Erik had shown me where it was early on in the evening and told me to meet him there later. It was wonderfully quiet and I fell asleep waiting for him. I woke up to Erik singing, following his voice I headed toward a mirror that would have been better suited to a dance studio. It opened and I walked through it. Just as the mirror closed I thought I heard someone make an exclamation of surprise.

Erik was rather amused by my assessment of the young man. He was nice enough to inform me that I had just met the Viscount Raoul de Chagny, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and Dr. Henry Vernier. My only comment: "Oh."

The next week passed not to differently from the first, except that I spent more time above ground, most of it in the company of the boy. I don't know why I think of him as a boy, he was probably a few years older than I. Perhaps it was his thick headedness. He seemed stubbornly unaware of our being constantly watched. We were followed about the Opera constantly. Come to think of it the whole thing was kind of funny. I had no idea where I was going, and the boy probably had less. And here he was following me as I wandered aimlessly about and someone was following him and sometimes someone followed that someone. I was beginning to feel a bit like a mother duck, or a cadet marching in ranks since Erik was almost never far away. Even when he was working I knew he was looking out for me. He'd told me he didn't need me running into anymore walls than absolutely necessary (I'd already tripped over several objects on the stage.). All this attention would probably leave me completely spoiled by the time I finally go home. But at least my standards for boyfriends had been raised back to their previous levels, if not higher.

Sometimes I let my mind wander, thinking about what was going on back home. I tried not to it wasn't pleasant not knowing what was going on. Despite my habit of thinking out problems while walking I was getting pretty good a keeping track of things, but sometimes it seem that I still had no control of what I did. On one particular day I found myself on the roof of the Opera with a ring in my hand. A clap of thunder had startled me. The boy was there and he was leaning towards me as if to kiss me. I stepped back quickly unnerved by the possibility. I had some faint hope that he might fall on his face, but he didn't.

"Christine!" he cried. I looked back over my shoulder wondering who he was talking to, no one was there. I was just about to say something when he interrupted again. "Come, we should go. It's going to rain soon." He reached out to take my hand. I started to backup not sure I really wanted to be lead around by this boy.

There was another flash of light and the rain was pouring down. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a door. We were rather damp before we got inside. He seemed to be afraid of something because he continued to hurry downward. As we hurried I tried to free my arm from his grasp. He hesitated for a moment and I heard someone say;

"No, this way."

The boy followed the voice and when they went down another flight of stairs and around a turn I was able to break free. I hadn't appreciated being pulled about when I couldn't tell whether or not I was going to trip or fall. I thought I heard someone taking to my left and headed towards the sound. It was a little lighter there and I wasn't sure but I thought I saw some people. At first they seemed to be standing on nothing, but when I got closer I was able to make out a sort of a cat walk I was also able to identify Erik's voice, and that of Quasimodo. I reached the end of the cat walk but didn't go any farther. I wasn't sure I trusted myself on it considering I had trouble seeing the guard rails in the dim light.

"Erik," I called softly. He turned, noticed me and approached. "I think the Fates are against us." I said when he reached me.

"How do you mean?"

"My mind was not wandering that time, at least not of my own violation."

"You're saying that you had no control of your actions this afternoon?"

"Not one bloody bit. . . . Sorry."

He nodded curtly then seemed to relax slightly. "There is no changing the past. But. . . you are certain?"

"I would _not_ be up _here_ if I had a choice. I can't stand heights."

"You and Dr. Vernier appear to have that in common."

"I bet he can see the ground though. I know I'm high up I just can't tell how high. I wonder if that's a good thing."

"Would you like to ask him?" he asked in a funny sort of way.

"I haven't got anything planned for this evening."

He must have been growing accustomed to my way of talking because he didn't comment. He just guided me along the cat to where the other two people were standing.

"Mlle Daae," greeted the taller of the two.

Naturally I looked behind me, only Erik was standing there. He emitted a strangled sound like someone choking back a laugh.

"Is something wrong?" asked the tall one in English. "We had assumed that you had descended with the Viscount."

"With the way he yanks me around? Thank you, no. I have enough new bruises to last me quite a while. Did that come out right?" I asked. Another thing I had noticed was that sometimes people didn't hear what I said, they heard something else.

"Why wouldn't it?" asked the shorter man.

"The seemed to have ceased meddling, for the moment," Erik answered my question.

"Who has ceased meddling?" Inquired the tall man.

"The powers that be," I replied.

"Yes of course," the tall one said skeptically.

"For some reason I don't think you believe me, Mr.?"

"Holmes," Erik supplied.

"Mr. Holmes, nice to meet you." I put out my hand. He shook it puzzled. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced, I'm Jennifer Smolenski."

"Oh my, How did this happen? Yes I begin to see the differences." he looked at me closely.

"What's going on Holmes?" Dr. Vernier.

"You got me," I said.

"I got you what?" Inquired Mr. Holmes.

"Never mind," Erik and I said at the same time.

"All I know is I was minding my own business reading in the Library when all of a sudden I woke up here. Well not here, here, but in this time."

"You come from a different time?" asked Dr. Vernier.

"Where did you think I came from? Outer space?"

"Now that has merit," said a new voice.

"Who are you?" demanded Erik. "And how on Earth do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked looking first at Erik and then at the fuzzy figure standing not two feet way.

"He isn't standing on anything."

"Very astute, Dr. Vernier," said the figure. "I am Q."

"So you are the one responsible for this mess," said Erik.

"Generally it takes two to make a wager," Said Q.

"All of this is because of some foolish bet?" Erik demanded.

"It was. Of course someone had to go and ruin it," he turned towards me.

"You can't kill me with a look I can't see, Q," I retorted.

"Can't see. . . oh. I wonder if that would make a difference," he mused.

"What is going on here?" demanded Mr. Holmes.

"Oh come now. I would expect such a dense remark from Mr. Data or Jean-Luc, but from the famous Mr. Holmes? Never. We decided to speed things up, since someone decided to spill the beans."

"You're going to make her choose," Erik said resigned.

"That _is_ what this is about. Have you decided yet?"

"Decided what?" I asked innocently.

"Who you would want to marry," Q said impatiently. "Quit stalling, you'll have to choose eventually, unless you'd rather spend the rest of your life here."

I thought about it for a moment. Considering what I knew of Erik and what I knew of Raoul, then something occurred to me. "Will Christine have to live with my choice?" It would be just like him to switch us again after I had made may decision and force her to keep it.

"What does that mater? She's already chosen your classes for next semester," he shrugged off my question.

"It matters quite a bit. I can change my classes."

"To whom?"

"To me for one, to them for another."

"You could stay here," he said.

"And do what? Die of boredom? You and I both know how women of this age are treated."

"Oh come now it's not that bad."

"What right do you have to say where or how someone has to live?"

"Now where have I heard that before?"

"No I won't choose. I won't be forced into choosing someone else's life." I turned to Erik, "I'm sorry. It's not your fault someone decided to play dice with the universe. But I need to go home, I miss my family."

He nodded understanding.

"You're as bad as Jean-Luc," said Q. "I expect you'll be wanting to go home now."

"That would be nice," I said.

"Fine, but don't say I didn't give you a chance."


	4. Chapter 4

I opened my eyes to find myself reclining in my chair in the school library. I looked up at the clock to find that the period was almost over. Since I had about five minutes left I turned back to my book. I had just found my place when I heard the turnstile. I looked up to see if a class was coming in to return books and discovered my older brother Erik walking towards me.

"Have a nice nap?" he asked, his voice muffled by his mask.

"I didn't know you where coming down for a visit. I had a funny dream." I got up and hugged him.


End file.
